Comments?

From Eric:

Russian homebuilt electro testicle torture device. Note the position of the distributor near the right nut. God forbid a fella hangs right....

Hmmmm

For the man who has everything

'cept a set of balls...

Motorradspion

Ich habe ein zu bilden Geständnis. Ist BMW heraus konfrontieren.

Sorry, Must be the Beck's doing that.

I have stumbled upon some interesting bikes of late and have a few pics below of two nifty Hondas, but first thing's first: My new (to me) GS:
I've been tellin' Nate for years what antiquated POS's the Boxer Twins were, then I noticed on my last big ride that the most common motorcycle on the backroads on a weekday was a BMW. Hmmmmm..... So I started doing some research. Lo! and Behold ! Most serious riders, men with hundreds of thousands of motorcycle miles under their belts, are on BMW's. Then I saw two GS's with over 100K on the clock sell in two days flat.

You only have to hit me over the head a few times.





This one is a 1970 CL350. Garage find - $800 OBO. I passed on it as I didn't want to offer them $300.00.


Here we have a touring CM250 Classic still on the road. Diggin' all the shiny bits.

1700 miles later

You will note some pics of a small store with gas pumps out front; that's in Shadey Valley Tennessee between two mountains and nestled in the middle of some of the best ridin' anywhere.

Trolling Bounty

Sometimes a well aimed bit of trolling yields unexpectedly bountiful results.

I had replied to a post on an adventure rider forum about the on-road behavior of those harley ridin' leather fags (You know who you are and, yes, that is a sweeping generalization) and have discovered that the argument it spawned just keeps on generating interesting and entertaining tidbits.

Like this:

Had a couple Harley Riders up on Carmel Valley road this last weekend, I was riding alone and just puttin' along, they were doing the same just a tad slower so I caught up and just followed along waiting for a clean shot, exiting a turn I rolled up on the outside passing the first bike however the pass on the leader went a little askew, the guy looked at me in his mirror and drifted over in front of me, then flipped me off. Wow never seen anything like it in my life. I settled back in behind him and when I saw him look at his mirror again I started around once more, he did his little swerve to the left and I dropped the hammer and jumped up on his right. I matched his speed and sat about 6 inches off his boot, he was wearing ray bans so I could not see his eyes but the fact his mouth was wide open and he was staring at me indicated the desired affect was inflicted, however I was not quite done as we were now heading into a right hander and I just matched his speed but headed for the outside of the turn. He hit the brakes, so did I, he was now in the oncoming lane and still heading for the shoulder. I had half a mind to just keep gong straight and run this jackass off the road but gave the ass hole a break and turned right and motored up the road. I was hoping they wanted to play some more but they pulled over and I lost site of them going into the next corner. I never saw them again.

Rules of the road are never fuck with another rider if you don't know them. There is a damn good chance they are crazier then you are.

Go Away

I'm Busy. Go look at my new nephew.

Got your message, EP. Knew you couldn't lay low very long!

The RainMan Cometh

In 1999 hereabouts there was a drought such as many had never seen. The ground literally shrunk so much it often failed to support foundation and basement walls. Never mind the grass, folks were watering their dirt to keep their homes from falling down.

Now, 2007, winter broke early and we all thought we'd get an extra cut of hay this season. Then the RainMain sold his motorcycle. Drought. Heavy drought. Brown grass, hard ground, cracked earth, barren fields.

This went on until late last week. The dry, hot air mass sitting over the central Kentucky Bluegrass began yielding to the fronts previously thrown against it to no effect. The RainMan had made a decision. Motorcycle chosen, accessories ordered, price negotiated. Half an inch fell the next afternoon.

Wednesday afternoon The RainMan went to pick up his Motorcycle, well farkled. He pulled the great lumbering beast onto the road from the dealership's parking lot merging effortlessly, his wife following in the Z71. He rolled to a first smooth stop on virgin brke pads at the first intersection. The RainMan gazed down at the long, smooth curve of the red mirror finish fuel tank with satisfaction and pride of ownership. And the rain fell; a few drops at first. Enough to signal the deluge. It rained off and on all Wednesday night. The first utter downpour hit Thursday afternoon, and as much as an inch fell in places today. It'll probably rain tomorrow.

Coincidence? How far does a coincidence have to stretch before it becomes causation? Or, at least, correlation. I have never ridden with The RainMan without getting at least sprinkled on. More often than not it's a downpour at some point. There are folks out there who have a "knack" for one thing or another. Some folks are walking lightning rods. Others can find oil hidden miles beneath the earths surface.

I'm not saying The RainMan has some type of mystical power to call down precipitation. I'm just sayin'...

Makin' The Most of What Ya' Got

Now, I'm not one who could be called a motorcycle snob. If it gets ya' there and gives ya' grins - roll with it. But after rollin' by many a leather fag on a snortin' hippo.... or maybe it's the other way, leather hippo fag on a..... you get the picture - it certainly is refreshing to see someone who RIDES their bike. Albeit antique and raggedassed. Gotta give the fella credit though; no tassles, studs, or shiny chrome. That tote is probably not Genuine Honda though it is sporetin' a no-shit genuine Windjammer fairing straight from the hands of Craig Vetter - inventor of the modern touring bike.

Speaking of snortin' hippos.... Lately, I have taken to giving all positively identified harley riders "The Bird".

For those not of the cognoscenti I will explain why: we motorcyclists commonly wave to one another going down the road. It is a time honoured tradition that clearly acknowledges the kindred spirit of wanderlust that was common in all bikers. Today three quarters of the "riders" out there are a bunch of leatherfags playin' dress-up and lookin' to impregnate one another with a bunghole baby.

Am I being unfair? Yes. Am I stereotyping? Yes. Cry me a river. I figure the real riders will flip one right back (might even have an adventure bike in the garage)- the poseurs will just pout, putt on home, and keep gathering in flocks like the sheep they are.

The Hotness

Think about this when next you hear the words, " 'Til death do us part."

The Premier Class

Question

I am sitting here watching the speed Channel watching these riders in a Moto race in Italy. Something is puzzling me. Why do the motorcycles appear to be the most stable int the turns, flopping from one side to the other, but when they go into a straight standing the bike up do they tend to oscillate so badly? Is it because that is when they are the heaviest on the throttle, or is there some other dynamic going on. These guys are on the edge the whole 6 laps.
equus pallidus | Email | Homepage | 06.03.07 - 6:31 pm |

Moto GP is the premier class in Motorcycle racing; The Formula 1 of bikes. All machines are hand built experiments. Power to weight is near, or over 1 HP per Pound and every setting on the machine is maximized for turning speed. The turns are where motorcycle races are won and lost.

There are different factors determining corner speed; roll rate (how quickly the bike rotates to full lean), steering head geometry, breaking capability (how deep you can go into a curve before leaning), traction, throttle control, suspension settings, etc. Moto GP bikes are setup to turn. They pretty much figure the rider can keep it together in a straight line.

What you are seeing is the result of the compromises the teams have made to give the rider the ability to go around curves as fast as possible. It doesn't help that the front tire is basically unloaded for most of a straightaway - The bikes do run traction control and wheelie control software, but 250 HP is still 250 HP.

The few mere mortals who have ridden GP bikes say they are impressed by the stability the bikes exude. 'Course they were probably 25% below race pace.

A moment of silence.

Poor Gregg just adopted out his beloved dualsport (DRz400) to a happy new owner.

Show some respect for his loss.

'Course we won't have to listen to him talk shit about it anymore......

Time Out in Tellico Plains

Ahhh. I do feel better.

Cherokee Slideshow

The above link is to a YouTube slideshow one of the fellas at the KLR650 (for the girls, a KLR is a motorcycle ) "Tour de Tellico II" posted. I ain't in it, but you get the idea.

Something like 80 KLR650's, a couple Super Sherpa's, a couple KLX250s's (one is actually a 330 w/ a Mikuni pumper - WOW!), one DRZ650, two XR650L's, two DRZ200's, three XT350's, a smattering of buckeye's on Beemers all descended on the Cherohala Motorcycle Resort in Tellico Plains for three days of ridin all over the Cherokee and Natahalia National Forests. We climbed mountains, ran "The Dirt Dragon", I rode the "Trail of Tears" (yes, the one the indians were force marched on), crossed streams, rode single track, rode goat trails, rode gravel, rode dirt, rode mud, traveled the Cherohala Skyway twice and resisted the urge to buzz hardleys.

There was only one Life Flight (banged up good - no permanent damage) and one broken arm (poor bastard rode in from Florida only to wreck upon arrival in Tellico Plains). Both of the above mentioned bikes are goners. There were a lot of broken turn signals, mirrors, bent shifters and levers - nothing really serious.

The important thing, though, is I got the dope on where the fun stuff is. Now if Nate ever gets a furlough from his gilded cage and WellDigger ever gets a bike..... We are good to go teach our GPS's some new, ahem, roads.

Lots of bikes were out and about this weekend. Some interesting sightings: a pristine Honda Magna w/ cafe' fairing (thought of you Bill), many Ducati's, a couple of Yamaha twostroke street bikes, a few Triumph Tigers, lot's of V-stroms, a 1985 Honda Ascot with full fairing, a Pacific Coast

Those of you who have not been camping on your motorcycle. Do it. In this order: Lay the wife, pack light, ride hard, eat big, sleep dirty, smoke some, drink a little, tell lies, ride some more, repeat as necessary.





The fella with the map is CherokeeChuck. A local who organized some of the rides and mostly waited for everyone to catch up. That's me with the fanny pack/holster covering my muscular buttocks.

The second pic is one of the trails we rode.

UPDATE:
I heard the Weather Channel reported a dust storm just South of Robbinsvile, NC on Saturday. There were 27 KLR's in one group riding out that way..... Hmmmm.

MythBusters

The story goes something like this:

A motorcycle rider hits an object in the road (ranges from a possum to a fallen tree). The force of the impact launches the rider many feet into the air to impact a telephone pole cross bar whereupon he is impaled. Stuck. Like a pig on a spit. A bug on a pin.

A fella recently related this tale to me with the assertions that he had personally known the rider and had inspected the tree laying across the road said rider had hit (about 18" across). I was using the occasion of this fellas' telling of the tale to illustrate the fact he is, in fact, a liar to a friend of mine, Chris.

Chris is a physicist and got to wondering just how that would work..... Needless to say, a few beers and 20 minutes later he had this prepared:




Disclaimer: This was quick and dirty, and used perfect conditions since it was for the purposes of testing the possibility of such an occurrence. Go easy on the boy, Gregg. Though, I did warn him....

So it looks like that '63 Panhead would had to have been runnin' close to 550mph when it hit that log, and the forks would have had to be infinitely rigid, the log would have to have been infinitely massive and infinitely hard.

Ahem...

Having washed out completely on the Derby, I think I'll try to mitigate my losses with a beer recommendation:

Shiner Bock

Brewed in Shiner Texas since 1913. All taste and no after-taste.

Do not confuse it with Shiner Blonde. Some relation to mead I think. Bleck!

Derby Day

My bets:

Cowtown Cat - $10.00 to win

Nobiz like Shobiz - $10.00 to win

To Be Famous

The most absurd idea becomes "deep thought" when one is inebriated. That is not to say that Greenies have much in the way of thought processes.

Crow (4/19, Springfield, Tenn.): I have spent the better part of this tour trying to come up with easy ways for us all to become a part of the solution to global warming. Although my ideas are in the earliest stages of development, they are, in my mind, worth investigating. One of my favorites is in the area of forest conservation which we heavily rely on for oxygen. I propose a limitation be put on how many squares of toilet paper can be used in any one sitting. Now, I don't want to rob any law-abiding American of his or her God-given rights, but I think we are an industrious enough people that we can make it work with only one square per restroom visit, except, of course, on those pesky occasions where 2 to 3 could be required.

Crow (4/19): I also like the idea of not using paper napkins, which happen to be made from virgin wood and represent the height of wastefulness. I have designed a clothing line that has what's called a "dining sleeve." The sleeve is detachable and can be replaced with another "dining sleeve," after usage. The design will offer the "diner" the convenience of wiping his mouth on his sleeve rather than throwing out yet another barely used paper product. I think this idea could also translate quite well to those suffering with an annoying head cold.

The above are excerpts from the blog Miss Sheryl Crow and some other hollywood nutball on a bus tour of the South. More yankees trying to save us poor ignorant rednecks from ourselves....

I, Treonaut

It's assholes and elbows around here, fellas. And I'll tell you one thing, by God, the work ain't nothing compared to the clerical duties associated with being a moblie equine Dr Scholls vendor.
I have tried many a system to streamline contacts, scheduling, invoicing, notes, and communication. DayRunner (never handy - uneditable - where's that pen?) , desktop PC (scratch a note and forget to add it), cellphone (no used - data entry too limited, and lastly, my trusty Visor Platinum, a triplicate invoice pad, and many combinations thereof. The Visor stood me in good stead until things got really hoppin' this spring and I did not have it on my person when making an appointment. Missed appointment - lost phone # - unhappy client. One pissed off horseshoer. See missing and appointment feels kinda like tellin' a lie. Icky. Anyway, I vowed this would never happen again and began searching for an all encompassing man portable device capable of managing contacts, scheduling, communication, notes, and invoicing - all at the same time.

Palm Treo 700p. I'm already using the Palm Desktop. Easy, slam dunk decision. Wait... No WIFI!! Not even wifi support?! What?! Palm is migrating to Linux?! Shit!

Palm Treo 700w. Microsoft is really gettin' on my nerves lately. But it has WIFI support (SDIO), and I have to admit Outlook has the Palm desktop beat all to hell (except for sub 1/2 hour scheduling).

A few minutes with the wife's Axim convinced me and I plopped down my hard earned money and hooked my PPC to my belt.

I'm looking at PPC invoicing programs and for a bluetooth printer now to mount in the truck. Geek nirvana, boys. Geek nirvana.

Check it out:

See what an old redneck can put together with a little effort.

Damn fine work there, Gary.

Newlyweds